I could write a whole book about how unlucky I am in Africa with work and money. I had planned, and even agreed with Kirill, that I would move in with him on December 1st, and as payment for the remaining three and a half months, I would leave him my laptop and camera. Nothing came of it. Yesterday it became clear that Sveta, his girlfriend, is definitely coming to stay with him in January for a month. You understand, I wouldn't fit in there. What to do? With my second-to-last money, I paid for December's rent to Shane's father. And I told him that I'm here until February, practically for sure. I dread going to work at Mavericks! And the closer the work days get, the stronger my "I don't want to!!!" gets. Liza called on Wednesday. She needed photos taken at Edward's work, but I had a shift at the club. I only work two days a week at Mavericks now, and of course, it fell on those days! And I hadn't needed to do any shoots for a month and a half! Liza called again today! She invited me to take photos at her work. I just got back. I agreed happily, not even noticing that they would pay peanuts. Any money is money! And it's better than being a bartender, as far as I'm concerned. Although I like photography more for the soul. I arrived, prepared the camera, and then noticed it was broken! There was static on the screen while shooting, no image!!! A-a-a-a-h! I returned home. Ingloriously, so to speak. That's how I live. Why does everything turn out this way for me? Maybe it's because I don't consider all these jobs as real OPTIONS for myself? I think that's exactly why. If I really liked the service industry and self-realization in it or in professional photography, things would surely be going much better for me. I don't think these fields are bad or unworthy of attention. No, of course not! It's just the kind of person I am. What kind? From fifteen to twenty, I was ready to work as anyone. And I worked in whatever field came my way: locksmith, journalist, security guard, train conductor. Watchman, electrician, kindergarten psychologist... and so on—you can't remember it all. In England, I picked raspberries and strawberries, worked in a "Pack-house" (packing). In America, I washed trucks at a "Car-wash" and washed dishes in a diner. It was almost all the same to me what the field was: I took on anything, I was always willing to try myself out everywhere. But, over time, all these "trials" stopped bringing me pleasure. And they even started to stress me out. But I had to live on something, so I continued: I wrote term papers, theses, essays, and tests to order. I dealt with auto parts: I bought, dismantled, sold for parts, and scrapped old domestic cars. I took photos at weddings and anniversaries. But I notice one thing in myself: the older I get, the harder it is to force myself. Even for the sake of survival. You look at it, and it seems there's no choice left, but still: I stubbornly want to be only myself. Even if I'm poor, with empty pockets and half-starved. But to be myself! Desperately, and now until the very end, to be only myself. Especially since life is short. How much have I lived? If I'm lucky, there's two and a bit times that much left. And that's it. Not that much! That's how it is, guys. I met with Kristina briefly—just because we agreed to go for a shoot, we only had an hour. I promised to call back later. Now I'm calling—the answering machine turns on, saying something in English. It doesn't even ring. Kristina moved to Sea Point, now she lives not far from me. Great! Katyukha was working during the day, and in the evening she went to an organ music concert with James! Cultured, damn it! Irinka called. She returned from Egypt. I was very glad to hear her. Maybe we'll meet up later. Friends are a good thing! November 28, 2008